


i'm here right now (if you'd take the time)

by orphan_account



Category: SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Slowly but surely, amidst the whirlwind of promotions, long-haul flights, and this frantic game of push and pull between SuperM and 127, Taeyong finds himself gravitating towards the soft crease of Baekhyun’s smile.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 127





	i'm here right now (if you'd take the time)

Taeyong’s been struggling, trying to find balance.

Oftentimes, he’s wedged between Seoul and transient hotel rooms, their crisp white sheets and beige curtains the backdrop for this dizzying sort of back and forth. Taeyong doesn’t know what to do, being this close to the precipice—being this close to blurring the fragile line between who he is onstage and who he is when he’s alone, surrounded by nothing but cloudy mirrors in empty practice rooms.

It creeps up to him, this slow kind of _tired_ you can’t really shake. He’s homesick when he’s on tour, and he’s homesick when he’s in Seoul, and Taeyong gets the feeling he’s going to spend the rest of this leg driving himself insane, missing something he can’t place.

He spends the first night after SuperM’s American promotions locked inside his hotel room, FaceTiming his mom. It takes an hour to reassure her that _yes_ , he’s eating well, and it takes another to comfort a screeching Ruby; whimpering reedy and painful as she stares into the pixelated screen, trying to follow the source of Taeyong’s voice.

He stares at the misshapen reflection on his phone until his vision goes blurry. Taeyong misses home so much he could scream.

When he stalks out of his room for dinner with the boys, his eyes are swollen from crying. It’s the first thing Baekhyun notices.

**

It happens slowly.

Taeyong sees Baekhyun eyeing him warily as the days go by. He touches Taeyong a little more carefully—these quick, fleeting bouts of reassurance. A soft squeeze of his shoulder. A pat on the head. When the rest of SuperM is roughhousing, all boyish and aggressive, Taeyong notices the hints of hesitance in Baekhyun’s movements—the way he turns to push Ten instead when he finds a joke to be particularly funny, when usually Taeyong would be the first person he’d turn to. Taeyong hates the way it makes him feel—like he’s a little kid who needs taking care of, always on the verge of bursting into tears.

Sometimes, Taeyong wants to yell. Wants to tell Baehyun, _I’m fine, hyung. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me._ Other times, Taeyong appreciates the attention so much it feels like relief.

The one night Taeyong comes out of his hotel room crying, Baekhyun goes out of his way to invite him over to play Overwatch. Taeyong watches as Baekhyun resolutely tries to ignore the tear tracks on Taeyong’s cheeks, a small grace Taeyong is so grateful for he almost bursts into tears again.

Baekhyun’s invitation is a careful question masked by something casual. He invites Taeyong over like it’s meant to sound like an afterthought, and not like _are you okay?_ And he’s not okay. Hasn’t really been in a while. So Taeyong takes the offer a little desperately, head jerking to nod in earnest.

Baekhyun’s resulting smile is warm.

**

Taeyong spends more nights in Baekhyun’s room after that. Sometimes they play video games, sometimes they just talk. Taeyong savors the familiarity of it; the way Baekhyun is funny, in a dry, smug sort of way—the way it’s nice for the both of them, how Taeyong is quick to burst into barking laughter at anything Baekhyun says.

It’s become a routine of sorts. They’ll sit together, order pizza—anywhere they are in the world—and just enjoy each other’s company. Taeyong likes the way Baekhyun’s room feels the same whichever country they land in. It’s a special kind of grounded that Taeyong needs. And slowly but surely, amidst the whirlwind of promotions, long-haul flights, and this frantic game of push and pull between SuperM and 127, Taeyong finds himself gravitating towards the soft crease of Baekhyun’s smile.

He’s quick to dismiss it—categorizes it in his mind as hero-worship, this child-like wonder at anything Baekhyun does.

But Taeyong notices the way Baekhyun pretends to lose to Taeyong in the games they play. Notices the way he’ll smile warmly right after, voice fond when he says, _you’ve worked hard, Taeyongie,_ making Taeyong think he means more than the way he beats Baekhyun in a half-assed round of Mario Kart.

Taeyong notices the way his heart jumps every single time—how stupid it feels, harboring this giant, helpless crush over someone unattainable. Over someone who orbits Taeyong at a measured distance, so close yet so out of reach at the same time.

Like most of the things Baekhyun does, it makes Taeyong feel like a little kid again.

A sneaky and fickle thing, infatuation is.

**

“No games tonight, Yongie. M’tired.”

It’s the first thing Taeyong hears when he pushes the door open, Baekhyun’s voice muffled from where he’s got his head buried in a pillow. He’s sprawled over the pristine hotel sheets and his shirt’s inside out, the fabric thin and a little stretched out around the collar.

Distractedly, he notices that Baekhyun’s wearing Taeyong’s cartoon Vetements pajamas—the very same pair he’s upended numerous hotel rooms looking for. It’s a little loose, and the length’s all off, but still—the sight tugs at something burrowed in Taeyong’s chest somehow, and it’s got him running a hand over the space where his heart is, fingers gripping the crumpled front of his t-shirt.

“Are those my pants?” He voices as much.

Baekhyun turns to glance at Taeyong, cheek smushed against the weight of the movement. “Maybe.”

There are pillow marks on the side of his face like he’s just woken up from a nap. Taeyong’s just woken up, too. In a sleep-ridden haze, he’d dragged his favorite neck pillow to Baekhyun’s room, the duvet from his own suite trailing behind his feet. It’s been a long day. Baekhyun smiles a little, sheepish and a bit tired, and Taeyong wishes it were longer.

Baekhyun pats the space beside him and scoots over, a silent invitation. Taeyong rolls his eyes as he stalks forward, crawling into the small cocoon of covers Baekhyun’s surrounded himself in. When he settles, he tugs wordlessly at a pant leg that circles Baekhyun’s ankle, tracing the awkward cartoon design printed on the cotton.

“You borrow my clothes all the time,” Baekhyun reasons, eyes tracking the movement. His hair is pink for the tour, and it’s sticking up around the edges. Still, it looks healthier than Taeyong’s. Softer.

“S’different, hyung,” Taeyong hums, “It’s my favorite pair.”

Baekhyun props himself up on his elbows to look up at the younger boy, all wide-eyed and mischievous. Baekhyun counters— _teases,_ “You’re my favorite.”

He peers up at Taeyong through his lashes, all careless and exaggerated; all corny with no real weight, and Taeyong snorts, a small laugh making an escape through chapped lips. Baekhyun looks pleased, chuckling low in his throat at the way Taeyong rolls his eyes; something the younger boy seems to do a lot in his company. When he collapses beside Baekhyun, Taeyong uses his arm to shield himself from the harsh lamp light. Uses his arm to keep himself from looking at Baekhyun, too.

“You’re so greasy,” Taeyong mumbles against the skin.

Baekhyun hums. “Am I?”

“The greasiest.”

A pause, then a choked out laugh. It sounds helpless and fond, the way it always sounds, when it comes to Taeyong.

Then, soft— “You’re cute, Taeyong-ah.”

Taeyong’s heart stutters foolishly at the sound.


End file.
